


Annoyed Barista Yells at Cloud

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, au in which no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a barista at a pretty much empty cafe, where his only co worker is Musichetta, who hooks him up with some friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> pls dont sue me for making a coffee au

PART I.

 

There are many coffee shops in the world, trust me, and there are many women and men who diligently work in those shops, providing snooty rich people who “don’t have time for this” to random kids who think they’re being edgy and cool by coming 15 minutes late to class with a vanilla macchiato that says “Mrs. Bieber”, but to tell the story of all those workers would be a hassle. So, I’m not going to do that, instead, we’re going to talk about a man who went by his last name, Grantaire, and a smart co worker, Musichetta. Why? Because I can get viewers off of this, obviously, or you wouldn’t be reading it here.

 

Grantaire was an art student at the local college, who focused on acrylics and sculpting. He was of average height, and had a full head of curly black hair, and a mind full of pictures and stories. He worked, as you probably have guessed, at his local coffee shop. His classes mostly started at ten, so he could get a five to nine shift being a barista/baker/whatever job they needed him to do at the time. Luckily for him, maybe not so much the shop, most students on their way went to the Starbucks right outside of the campus, so they did not get much business, other than the organic craving people who had all the time in the world, and a full wallet.

 

His co worker, Jaideep, had recently been fired for showing up late for a whole week, and Grantaire was expecting the new recruit to be there. And she came exactly on time, sleeves rolled up and hair pinned back. She introduced herself as Musichetta and immediately went to the back to make scones. Grantaire chuckled as he watch her get to work.

 

Time went on and the two got to know each other. They would talk the whole time they were on the job, only to relish the quiet as much as the conversations. Grantaire and Musichetta became good friends.

 

“Oi, Grantaire.” Musichetta called from the front counter to the backroom.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can we take hundreds?”

 

“Why would someone pay you one hundred dollars for a coffee?” He walked out, wiping his hands on his apron.

 

“Just wondering.”

 

“No, we haven’t been allowed to since 2006.”

 

“What happened then?”

  
  


“We don’t talk about it.” He looked out through the tall window the bordered the right side of the entrance, mysteriously.

 

Musichetta laughed, “You are too dramatic. Are you takin’ theatre classes?”

 

“Nah, I guess I was just born with star quality.” He grinned and chuckled.

 

“What do you take then, you never really talked about school much.”

 

“I’m majoring in art and minoring in history.”

 

“An art student and a history nerd, huh? You got to get a life outside of work and school.”

 

“But I do have a life! Art, school, and waking up at five every morning to work at an empty cafe.”

 

She shook her head, “You’re pathetic. For such a charming man, you have become a sorry loser.”

 

“Hey! I read and work out, I do that kind of stuff.” Grantaire defended.

 

“I mean like a social life, friends, girlfriends, surrounding yourself with awkward people in the same situation as you.” She spoke, “I have an idea!”

 

“What?”

 

“Okay, what if you come with me to this party my boyfriend and his buddies are planning? Then you could get out of your house and meet new people.”

 

“What if they don’t like visitors?” Grantaire asked.

 

“Eh, they’ll live.”

 

And so it was arranged. Grantaire was to go to a party filled with random people he did not know for four hours. He wouldn’t get to see if they were nice, rude, or somewhere in between until he, reluctantly albeit, went to the house.

 

\---

 

Grantaire stood outside the suburban home that was supposed to be where the party was. He had carpooled with the only person he knew there, Musichetta, and her boyfriend, Joly. They had a bit of trouble finding it, but eventually they turned off the GPS and looked at the google maps they printed out, and finally made it there without any casualties.

 

“None of the lights are on.” Grantaire remarked.

 

“Probably in the back of the house, then.” Joly spoke.

“Who cares?” Musichetta walked ahead of them to the front porch and knocked hard on the red door.

 

“Oh, hello, Joly, Music, and-”

 

“Musichetta, I don’t like nicknames.”

 

“Alright, Musichetta, and who’s this?” An athletic looking man with ginger hair said with a smile. His voice was very soft, not in volume, but in tone. It felt rounded and cool, but happy nonetheless.

 

“His name’s Grantaire, he’s my guest.”

 

“I thought we weren’t going to bring guests tonight.” The guy said, frowning a bit.

 

“It’s fine, he won’t bite.” The man nodded and opened the door for them to come in. The house was a decent, the walls were painted a nice darker blue, and white for the wood panels. It had a very clean, hostel like look. There were two men in the kitchen as they followed the red haired man, they waved and smiled kindly.

 

“Oh, by the way, my name’s Jehan.” The man turned to look at Grantaire, although he couldn’t make his face out much, other than that it was thin, as the hallway did not have any lights on.

 

“Nice to meet you.”

 

They entered the medium sized living room. There was two couches, one green, the other an old blue loveseat, and three chairs taken from the kitchen. “Hey guys, Joly and Musichetta are here, they also brought a friend. His name’s Grantaire.”

 

There was a group of men, and two girls, sitting on the couches, just talking as music played in the background, quietly. They all stopped and looked at Jehan. “Hi.” Grantaire said.

 

“Hey.” a few people said. The four sat down.

 

“What’s your name again?” A girl with a long blonde ponytail said.

 

“Grantaire, your’s?”

 

“I’m Cosette.”

 

“I don’t know what to say.”

 

 

“This is Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Enjolras, Marius, he’s my boyfriend, Eponine, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Bossuet. Wow, that was a mouthful.” She said, pointing to each person as she said their names.

 

“Do you all go to the university here?” Grantaire asked.

 

“Yep.” The man introduced as Combeferre said. “Most of us want to become lawyers, politicians, or some sort of thing like that.

 

“Oh, cool. Wait, who are the two guys who were in the kitchen?”

 

“There was somebody in the kitchen?” Courfeyrac asked.

 

“We didn’t invite anyone else. Did someone else bring guests?” Eponine spoke.

 

“No.” Marius poked his head around the wall, as he was closest. “Hand me the iron shovel for the fire.” Eponine sat up and grabbed it, giving it to Marius, “If I yell, call the cops.” He stood up and walked into the kitchen, weapon raised, ready to attack.

 

“I wonder if we’re being robbed.” Feuilly said, just above a whisper.

 

“Oh, hey guys, they left, and they didn’t take anything.”

 

“Thank God.” Cosette spoke, “Wouldn’t that suck? Being robbed at your own party?”

 

After that, talk was easy. They laughed and told jokes, having an all around good time. At one point Musichetta brought up that they both worked at the same coffee shop, “Yeah, you guys should drop in tomorrow. Grantaire, here, makes a mad cappuccino.” They nodded and a collection of ‘okays’ was said.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it may be short, but at least it's longer than chapter 24 of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

PART II.

 

Just like they had said, the group of friends had come to the coffee shop the next morning. Musichetta was working in the back, Grantaire mindlessly spraying and wiping windex off and on the glass case they but baked goods in.

 

“The storm arrives.” Eponine spoke, leading the company in.

 

“We’ve come to leech your coffee out of the machines.” Combeferre walked to the counter, looking at the black board with the menu on it.

 

“Musichetta, your friends are here!” He yelled to her. She popped out of the kitchen.

The two employees worked madly making the students their beverages. After a solid fifteen minutes, everyone was seated, contentedly eating biscottis and bagels with their hot drink, including Grantaire and Musichetta.

 

“So, why are you guys not in school right now? Don’t you have morning classes?”

 

“We should be asking you the same.” Marius answered, “But it’s Labor Day, didn’t you know that?”

 

“No....”

 


	3. Chapter 3

PART III.

 

Over the next week, the attendance of the group started deteriorating until it was just Marius and the guy named Enjolras. Apparently they were the only ones whose schedule allowed them to get coffee before school. So, that’s what they did, and they did it every morning for two weeks. Grantaire and Musichetta started anticipating them, making their orders before the two even showed up at the door.

 

These constant meetings, with his now pretty good friends, were a reason to wake up, motivation to go to sleep at a good time, and made him all around more cheerful. Musichetta was right, he really did need to get a life. Beforehand, he wasn’t exactly a very “bubbly” kind of man. He was dissatisfied with his life, but did not really have the ambition to make himself feel better. This was just the cure he needed.

 

He learned that Marius lived with his grandfather, as a child, and only went to prestigious character schools, until he decided to go to this just okay university and live on his own. Enjolras, whom he had not spoken to previously, had divorced parents, and lived in the house they visited with Marius and Cosette.

 

But to Enjolras, Grantaire listened to much more intently. There was something about the way he talked, the way he smirked when he heard something funny, his rare, gentle smile that interested Grantaire. Slowly, but surely, the barista and artist had fallen in love. All Grantaire had to do at that point was to ask Enjolras out in the generous amount of time he was able to see him everyday.

 

There was one problem, though, he had no clue how to pick up someone, so most tries went more like this:

 

“Hey, you like your coffee?”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”  
“You’re welcome.” He’d pause, “You look nice today.”

 

“Really? Thanks, I guess.”

 

Then Grantaire would go into the back and take over whatever Musichetta was doing, having her go out and talk to them instead of him.

 

One day, though, after the boys had left to class, Musichetta was leaning on the glass counter, calmly, and said, “Enjolras is cute, isn’t he?”

 

“Yeah, he is... hey! Wait!” Grantaire said too late, Musichetta threw her head back laughing and went into the back room.

 

“I’m excited for your guys’ wedding.”

 

\---

 

Grantaire sat on his bed, running his hands through his hair. It had been a long day. He turned in his painting he had been working on for a month, and in the next few days it would be looked at and judged. He was trying to use the style of the French artist, Antoine-Jean Gros, whom he admired deeply, but was unsure if he had actually done a good job. He liked his painting, though, and he kept telling himself that what mattered was if he loved his art, not what a teacher thought of it. That didn’t help much, sadly.

 

Interrupting his moping, his cellphone buzzed. He picked it off of his pillow and opened it, looking at the text.

 

_M: hey i hope u dont mind but i gave your phone number to marius and enjolras ;)_

_R: ..._

_jfc i s2g musichetta, i was a champion boxer i will fight you if you do something stupid like that again_

_M: you know you love me_

_R: go away im gonna sleep_

_M: goodnight_

 

He sighed and threw the phone across the room, then plopped onto the bed.

  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

PART IV.

 

It was Sunday morning, which meant that most shops were closed, including the cafe. It also meant he had classes earlier. He ate a quick breakfast of cereal and left the flat.

 

Grantaire decided to work on the most labor intensive project he had in store, a foot tall clay sculpture of a tree druid, which he thought was a pretty interesting subject. He was in his zone, using the mushy greyish brownish substance and white plastic tools to delicately carve a face onto the head of the creature. In thirty minutes his fingers had become smeared with the stuff, making them feel waxy. He was about to wash his hands when he got a text, he opened the phone in his hands, it read:

 

_? (unkown number): Hey this is Enjolras._

 

Grantaire mentally screamed and the phone slipped out of his hands, into the statue. He cursed loudly and pulled it out, grimacing. ‘Note to self, buy cheaper phones’. Why had he, an art student living off of almost minimum wage and his parent’s help, had to have seemingly broken an iphone? Now he would have to buy a new one under a cheaper company, and go through a lot of shit, all because he couldn’t wait until he washed his hands to answer a text. He sighed and set it on the table. Maybe he could still clean it? He’d have to try before it dried.

 

After class was over, he went back to the apartment and got some toothpicks, so that he could get the last bits out of the charging hole that he couldn’t clean at school. He had managed to get the clay off of the screen, leaving only a bit of a grease stain.

 

_R: Hey, Enjolras. Sorry I couldn’t text you, I was in the middle of class._

_E: lol dude he doesnt have his phone rn_

_R: what_

_E: yeah man_

_R: whose on his phone_

_E: uh_

_his friends_

_R: oh my god_

_E: u ok buddy_

_R: I ALMOST DESTROYED MY PHONE TRYING TO TEXT BACK_

_E: sorry_

_R: OH MY GOD_

 

He set the phone down, carefully, on the table. His head dropped to the wood and he closed his eyes, “Fuck you too.” After awhile, he got up and made himself a sandwich, it wouldn’t be awhile until his roommates came back from school.

 

 

Vrrmmmm, vrmmmmm, vrsshhmmm. The phone on the table vibrated.

 

_E: Hey Grantaire sorry I guess that one of the kids got my phone. I left it at the flat while Courfeyrac was babysitting and they only just left._

 

Grantaire’s eyes squinted as he texted.

 

_R: How can I be sure that this isnt one of said kids?_

_E: I guess you can’t._

_R: Are the coffee cups in our shop green or white?_

_E: Neither, they’re blue._

_R: Good._

_ha you wouldnt know what i had to go through to text you back_

_E: Your typing suddenly changed._

_R: huh i guess it did_

_E: Yeah._

 

They texted a while more, talking about school and stupid things like the weather. It was actually quite embarrassing to watch. Whenever Grantaire got a text back, he would smile, then reply.

 


	5. Chapter 5

PART V.

 

Grantaire biked to work again, the morning sun only just rising as he locked his bike on the bike rack. He walked in and unwrapped his scarf and unbuttoned his coat. Winter was certainly coming a bit late, usually the roads would already be icy and he would be unable to bike by this time of year, but it was still just above 32 degrees. He began to get the oven warmed up for the bread dough that was rising in the early morning. He turned on some music and got into his mode.

 

Eventually, Musichetta came, and eventually the friends joined them. No one spoke a word as she handed the two their drinks, flashing a quick awkward smile. They made a bit of small talk. Enjolras studied Grantaire, he didn’t look like the sort of man he would normally socialize with, but in the situation, he had grown to think of him as a friend. He was a bit strange, and a little distant, but there was something-

 

‘Shit, he looked at me’ The two made eye contact for a few seconds, before Enjolras said, “I... uh... need to go. Goodbye.” He downed the last of his coffee and threw it in the trash, rushing out the door.

 

“I guess I’ll catch up to him. I’ve never seen him so flustered.” Marius frowned and ran out the door, “Bye!”

 

“So are you two official yet?” Musichetta winked at Grantaire.

 

“Shut up.” He responded.

 

“Okay, whatever.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

PART VI.

 

Since Grantaire was now a part of the “group”, he was invited to Marius’s 22nd birthday. They decided on going to the Olive Garden that was on the outskirts of town, because ‘When you’re there, you’re family’, and at least they try to be somewhat fancy. Plus, free breadsticks! They waited in the small lobby, crowding themselves on the leather couches.

 

“Pontmercy party, this way.” A waiter said, looking at them. “What’s the occasion?” She asked as they took their seats at the large round table.

 

“Birthd-” Marius slapped his hand over Feuilly’s mouth.

 

“Just a few friends coming together, is all.”

 

“Ah, well then, another person will come out and take your orders in a bit. Have a great time.”

 

“Thanks.” Marius smiled, “I told you that I don’t want them to know it’s my birthday.” He hissed, “They sing.”

 

Cosette chuckled and shook her head.

 

People started looking at their menus, trying to find something that was good, and preferably under twenty dollars. “Hey, you want to share?” Cosette asked Marius.

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Hey, that sounds like a good idea.” Bahorel said. Most of the group, other than Eponine and Musichetta, split their meals with someone else, so that they wouldn’t have to pay as much, which actually, is a pretty decent idea. Grantaire decided he wanted fettucini, and coincidentally, Enjolras said he did too, so they split an order, and sat next to each other.

 

Time went on and they ordered what Grantaire said was “Actually pretty good wine.”. Although, Enjolras didn’t want any.

 

“Oh come on! Fine, fine, I respect that you don’t want to drink a lot, but you have to have a sip. You can’t live your life without any alcohol, whatsoever.”

 

“Okay, why not.” Grantaire smiled and handed him the glass, Enjolras took a sip and smiled, looking a bit disgusted, nodding his head, “I think I’ll stick to soda.”

 

After they had finished dinner and tiramisu that Marius ordered for everyone, the group split up. Musichetta, her boyfriend, Marius, Cosette, and Combeferre carpooled in Marius’s soccer mom van.

 

“So,” Musichetta looked over to Grantaire, who was staring out the window, “did you like dinner?”

 

“It was okay.”

 

“Nothing special?”

 

“Um, it was Olive Garden, it’s not exactly fine dining.”

 

“Yes, but what about the whole wine thing. Enjolras, like, second hand kissed you.”

 

“Shush.” He placed his index finger on her mouth, “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“What’s happening?” Combeferre asked from the middle row. Musichetta pulled Grantaire’s hand off her face.

“Nothing!”

 

“Oh, come on, Grantaire, we’re your friends, you can tell us anything.” Cosette twisted around the passenger’s seat.

 

“He got second hand kissed by Enjolras, I’m so proud of my boy. Finally growing up.” Musichetta’s lips curled up, happily.

 

“Musichetta!”

 

“You know I can tell Enjolras, if you want.” Marius spoke, eyes still focused on the road.

 

“That won’t be necessary.” Grantaire assured him.

 

“You like Enjolras?” Combeferre tried to hide a grin, “That must suck.”

 

“Don’t discourage him.” Musichetta frowned at him.

 

“I’m so happy for you, Grantaire. Falling in love is such a wonderful thing. I hope that you can express your feelings to him.” Cosette said sweetly, laughing lightly to herself. “But don’t be worried if he walks away the first time you tell him that. He’s not very experienced in talking about romantic love.”

 

“You say that like he’s an alien, ‘romantic love’.” Grantaire sounded.

 

“Well, he loves politics, he loves his friends, he loves lots of things, but not in a way that he’s like ‘Hey, babe, wanna go out?’, that’s just not him. He just doesn’t seem to have time for that. But I couldn’t say what goes through that head of his.”

 

There stillness in the minivan, everyone looked at the floor, or out the window, listening to the thumps of the wheels on the tiled highway. Grantaire pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, ‘They’re going to tell him that I like him. Then he’s going to turn out straight and what is he going to think of me? Maybe he doesn’t even want to date. Oh God, oh God, oh God.’

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

PART VII.

 

The next morning, Enjolras and Marius showed up, as usual, but no one seemed to have something to say. They greeted each other and that was it. The quiet of the little shop was deafening. Grantaire paced around in the back room, engrossed in his own thoughts.

 

“Everyone whose name starts with an M, please go outside for a moment.” Grantaire declared, bursting into the main area. Musichetta stopped wiping the counters, Marius and Enjolras looked up from their table.

 

“Why-?” Musichetta started.

 

“Please.” She sighed and tossed the rag on the counter walking out the door, Marius following her.

 

Grantaire’s stomach was doing backflips, and his heart felt like it was perpetually falling off a skyscraper. He took a deep breath and began to speak, “Hey, Enjolras. Okay, so I’m really nervous right now so I’m apologizing in advance if I fuck up what I’m saying. So here it is. You probably already know this, you either were told or caught on, and it most likely won’t matter, because I’m sure you’re not into guys, but I kinda like you in a romantic way.”

 

Enjolras blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. After a few seconds of awkwardness, he spoke, “You kind of like me?”.

  
  


Grantaire looked at him, incredibly confused.

 

“You either like me, or you don’t. And if you don’t, you think I’m lonely or something and this is you pitying me. I’m sure you know I don’t like that.”

 

‘What is he saying?’ Grantaire thought, “I like you, a lot. I like your nice hair and eyes, and the way you smirk just a bit when you hear something funny. I like how you always know what’s happening around you and how passionate you become when you talk about politics, and the way your blue eyes light up and oh my God, I love you, not just like. I love you, Enjolras.”

 

Enjolras simply nodded and exited the shop. Grantaire groaned, ‘Cosette was right, he did walk out on me.’

 

Marius walked up, hands in his pocket, smiling like a complete dork, “I’ll talk to him, don’t you worry.” He threw the paper cup in the black waste bin and ran out the door to catch up with his fleeing friend.

  
“I fucked up so badly this time.” Grantaire said as Musichetta came back in.


	8. Chapter 8

PART IIIX.

 

It was a day, then two, then three, and soon a whole week had passed by without any contact to their buddies. Musichetta shrugged it off, telling Grantaire that they probably had meetings in the morning of some sort, but no matter what she said, the only explanation he could make was that he had scared them off. On Wednesday he stopped making the earl grey tea and caramel macchiato early. On Thursday he brought a book to work again.

 

‘Don’t worry, it’s just meetings, I’m sure of it.’ Grantaire thought, walking through the grocery store. He threw a box of green tea in the blue plastic basket he carried, then proceeded to the isle that had milk. He strolled along, looking for the 2%’s blue capped jugs, when he saw someone familiar. “Enjolras.” he said in a whisper. There was no way that the blonde boy could have heard him, unless he was half bat and shy about it, but he spun around, his eyes meeting Grantaire’s.

 

“Oh, hi.” Enjolras spoke first.

 

“Hi.”

 

“You like 2%.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“We are not doing this, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Grantaire said, his voice flat, void of emotion, even though his mind was screaming, ‘What the fuck! What the fuck? You already fucked it up. Oh my God you are such a complete idiot.’

 

“I’m not going to small talk to act like nothing has happened. You deserve an answer, I know, and I was a douchebag for just leaving you. But didn’t feel like texting you would be right, and I had meetings in the morning, because the school is planning on destroying the old library and I’m angry about that. And so, I’m sorry, you have my most sincere apologies.” Enjolras’s voice sounded, not angry, but accented with force. The man sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “It was rude of me to had left you without a proper response. You probably felt like you messed up.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Enjolras looked away, “I am sorry, really, I just didn’t know how to respond. I’ve never had someone tell me they loved me in such a,” his eyes trailed to the palm of his hand, that he held out, “such a genuine way. You do want an answer though.”

 

“That would be nice, but if you don’t swing that way, or something-”

 

“No, I’m open minded on the subject, but what do I say? Okay, I accept that you love me, but what are we supposed to do now?”

 

“I haven’t planned that far ahead.”

 

“Well, um, I don’t think I know you well enough to go on a, quote unquote, ‘date’, but if you want to hang out, we can arrange something.”

 

“Tomorrow, Musichetta won’t be able to go to work, and the person taking their shift has to come in an hour late.”

 

“Wow, that’s a whole one by yourself.”

 

“Not if you’re there.” Grantaire grinned.

 

“I don’t think I can be there the whole hour though, maybe like thirty minutes, I have a meeting.”

 

“No, that sounds perfectly fine.”

 

Enjolras gave a small smile and left without a word more.

 


	9. Chapter 9

PART IX.

 

As expected, Musichetta wasn’t there the next morning, when Grantaire arrived on his bike. He turned on the lights, the heater, then flipped the sign on the wall, next to the entryway to open, whistling the whole time.

 

“Hello?” the door opened just as Grantaire walked away, making the bells jingle. Enjolras had arrived, wrapped in a large blue coat.

 

“Hey.” Grantaire stopped his whistling and leaned on the front of the glass display case, “Want the usual?”

 

“That would be wonderful.” They chatted as Grantaire made him his drink. They laughed at the silence, which seemed awkward, but not so difficult to be in anymore. Time flew quickly and soon Enjolras left in a hurry, saying that he was late, and later texting that he was sorry for leaving crumbs from the croissant they shared.

 

“Excuse me? You’re Grantaire, right?” A tall woman with curly black hair said, as she walked through the door.

 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. You the sub?”

 

“Yep, my name’s Bella. Also, Musichetta asked me to report to her if you’d had any meetings with a man who went by... Anjolras-Enjolras. Am I pronouncing that right?”

 

“Enjolras, yes. He was in here just fifteen minutes ago.”

 

Bella got out her phone and typed a bit, then smiled, “She says that she wants you to know she’s proud of you and that she’s happy.”

 

“Tell her that Grantaire says ‘Stop being a helicopter parent’.”

  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  



End file.
